


Think About Monday

by slinden



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Flirting, DarkPilot, Gift Fic, M/M, hey look something that isn't multiple chapters, my brain is going nuts right now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:33:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23267026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slinden/pseuds/slinden
Summary: Ben Solo would prefer to spend his Friday night alone but cracks under pressure from a certain coworker.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Ben Solo, Poe Dameron/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 8
Kudos: 17





	Think About Monday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [idrilhadhafang](https://archiveofourown.org/users/idrilhadhafang/gifts).



> This is a gift fic for idrilhadhafang for being a really GREAT friend the last few weeks! To everyone else, just ignore this if the pairing isn't your jam. I'll be back to my usual content soon (which you should ignore in general because it's overwritten schlock).
> 
> But hey, here's my first one-shot and my first gift fic. 
> 
> Um, bye. Hope you're all well.

_Red or white?_

Ben Solo glared at the message that disturbed his dinner. _What?_

_The wine. The wine I’m buying that we’re going to drink together tonight._

He should ignore the message. He’d ignored every other text from his coworkers that evening after he ducked out of the pub that they had congregated at after work. The people he worked with knew he wouldn’t reply and he cherished that reputation, hard earned after five years at that office. He could be civil at work, but his free time was supposed to be just that. Anyone who drunk texted him didn’t deserve a reply. This one shouldn’t be any different. Still, his fingers had a mind of their own. _You seem to have had enough already. Good night._

He set his phone down and hoped that his terseness would end the conversation.

The buzzing from the table made him clench his fork. If he ignored it, he could finish eating.

Rolling his eyes at himself, he set down his cutlery and grabbed his phone.

_Come on, Solo. You abandoned the afterwork like the place was one fire. I’m offended._

Somewhere, deep down inside, Ben enjoyed the teasing. He didn’t know if he should call it flirting or not but it was in the neighbourhood. And it had been ramping up over the last six months, wearing him down to this. His coworker was the same on the phone as he was at the office, taking personal enjoyment in pushing the limits of what was appropriate. At the same time, it went against operating in the same workspace; that part was what Ben focused on. If he had stayed longer at the afterwork, he’d just gotten drunker. If he had stayed longer, he had been forced to eat bad bar food. His salmon, rice, and spinach were better than something greasy and regrettable at the pub.

But he’d left something else behind that stung harshly by leaving early.

_I am eating. Bother someone who cares._

He frowned at how quickly the reply came. _No one else is answering._

Ben scoffed, taking another mouthful of rice before replying. _So I am the last resort? Thank you, Dameron. You have won me over._

Working with Poe had made him grow a sense of humour, or at least that’s what the other man would have said with a mischievous grin. He had grown up with a father who loved bad humour and dry, corny jokes. Just because he didn’t laugh whenever their boss said something annoying and terrible didn’t mean he was immune to emotions. He went to work, he did his job, and he was _social_. He didn’t need Poe Dameron telling him what to do on a Friday night while he was hammered.

 _I swear to God, if you don’t leave your sad fucking apartment and hang out with me, I will never answer another email from you AGAIN. Even if you mark it URGENT. It’s a big no from me. You can go fuck yourself._ He had watched the typing symbol blink on and off repeatedly before the message finally landed. He had spent the time scoffing at the desperate typing, sipping at his glass and knowing he was causing someone else discomfort.

Of course he would still answer his emails. Ben knew that he had him. It was just what he wanted to do with him that he had to think about.

He had rarely felt attractive before Poe Dameron showed up at their firm, taking up a cubicle down the hall. The moment he introduced himself and raised his eyebrows, Ben had been knocked out of his daily routine. Getting there early to avoid people turned into coffee in the break room because Dameron got there at the same time, already excited about whatever lame assignment he’d been handed. He’d sometimes feel a foot brush against his under the table and realized after a month that it wasn’t accidental. Eating his lunch at his desk alone turned into having someone lurk at the edge of his cubicle, poking at a plastic container from the deli downstairs, commenting on anything from the weather to whether or not penguins could walk up stairs. _That_ line of thinking had made Ben finally turn and snap at him; of course penguins couldn’t walk up stairs. They would have to hop. _Watch a fucking nature documentary_ , he had said before glaring and returning to his work.

Poe had left him alone for a week after that.

But then he was back on a random Wednesday, showing him a video from a zoo of penguins clamoring up stairs. _Okay, so we are both wrong. Unless they have special, penguin stairs, it’s a shit show._

That had been three months ago.

And it had only gotten worse.

Sitting back, he licked his lips and thought about how Poe’s shoulder had brushed his when he shoved his phone in his face, talking too much about penguins to make the video actually worthwhile.

Looking around his empty apartment, he frowned. It was inappropriate. It wasn’t right. But he wasn’t exactly his senior or supervisor. It was only how Ben thought their jobs should work that had made him keep his distance.

And now he was getting texts that could lead anywhere.

Leaving his phone on his table, he rinsed his plate. He finished the last of his wine and put the rest of the bottle in the fridge. He wiped down the counter and did the dishes, putting what he could in the dishwasher. He was doing everything he could to ignore his phone. It was Friday. There would be a Monday at the end of this and it would be back to the same holding pattern of hidden touches, too-long looks, and a smile that he couldn’t get out of his head.

When the water stopped running, he was only left with the distant humming of his air conditioning.

Rubbing his eyes, he snatched up his phone again. _Come over. If you are not passed out._

He shoved his phone into his pocket, leaving the kitchen for the living room. If he didn’t get a reply, he could at least read and relax into the weekend. He had some work he planned to do the next morning. He always brought it home with him. He highly doubted that Poe did the same. He slacked off until it counted, suddenly showing up to a presentation with blank notes and making the rest of the team look stupid with how charming he could be when it mattered. And he knew it too.

His phone buzzed and he put his hands on the back of his couch, gripping it to stop himself for instantly reaching into his pocket. The vibration sent shivers up his spine and he hoped that it wasn’t from his mother, given his reaction.

_Oh yeah? Who says I passed out. I didn’t pass out._

He thought about how he’d caught Poe trying to hide how he’d fall asleep in the afternoon at work. It happened often enough that he could make jokes about it. He’d walk by his desk, about to deliver something to the boss, and see how he’d have his head propped up on his hand, slouched down in his chair. Ben would slow his feet, eyeing the curve of his face as it was nestled in the palm of his hand. Morning people tended to crash, even with too much coffee.

It had been hard not to disturb him the half dozen of times he’d seen him try to pretend he was working and not sleeping.

How had he survived the last six months?

He would have gotten anyone else fired by that point. He’d done it before. People who looked at him wrong, he’d find something in their personnel file to get them out of the office. He’d find major flaws in their work and go directly to a higher up. Anyone who didn’t finish everything accurately to a deadline, he’d go to HR and find a way to get them out the door.

But somehow, in some way, he had let the other man pretend to work while also sleeping at the same time.

And now he had to answer the message. _Bring the wine. If you can stay awake to get here._

He felt his face getting warm as he followed the message with his address.

If he wasn’t himself, he would be more worried about the state of his apartment. It was open and clean. The books that lined his shelves were ordered; his bed was made. Having little to do over the weekends had left him with nothing better to do than organize and clean. He blamed most of it on him trying not to be his father, leaving everything in a mess constantly until someone else too care of it.

He only got a thumbs up in reply.

That could mean anything.

He groaned at the message and went back to the fridge to pour himself another glass of wine. Turning on the television, he found the most intelligent thing that he could and let the dull tones of the narrator start to lull him back to calm. He refused to be angry about the clouded reply. Trying to be forward had never worked for him and now he would have to deal with an awkward apology on Monday. Or worse: a terrible email tomorrow morning that went nowhere and told him even less. He wasn’t going to show up, he told himself. He wasn’t interested. It was all a game and he’d been a moron and accepted the bait.

His glass was empty and he was about to turn off the television when the buzzer sounded. He rolled his eyes when it repeated S-O-S several times in succession.

Not bothering to hit the intercom, he pressed the entry button long and hard. If the drunken idiot missed the time he’d given him, it was all on him.

He also needed more wine to settle his heart. Emptying the last of the bottle into a glass that was almost spilling over the rim, he shrugged to himself. Recklessness had been the theme for the last hour so why not.

The level in his glass was almost respectable by the time a fist rapped on his door in the same beat as before.

Groaning, he undid the latch and met the shining brown eyes behind his door. “Did you get that? I’m sending out an SOS.”

He should have slammed the door in his face. This was a mistake. It was a terrible idea he’d made out of loneliness and from being pushed to a limit by mockery. Instead, he settled for stepping to the side to let the other man into his apartment for the first time.

“Wow, you’ve got a…Shit, Ben, how do you afford this place? How much more do you make than me?” Poe walked in and looked around his space like he was on another planet. “Or should I talk to HR? Are you embezzling something?”

He turned away at that point, putting his face into his glass before replying. “Don’t be annoying when you’re here. Where is the wine?”

“Why? So you can judge it?”

He’d already spotted the bottles under his arms. They looked cheap. But he wouldn’t be dared into making a response. “No, so we can drink it.”

Grabbing another wine glass from the shelf, he turned to face him. Poe had already set the bottles down and had his arms folded. “So now you want to drink? Not when we’re out with the rest of the team?”

Sliding the glass along the table, he raised his eyebrows. “Why would I want to drink with them more than I need to?”

Shrugging, Poe finally took off his jacket. And then, after Ben had glared at his shoes still being on, slipped them off and tossed them in the direction of the door. Forcing the shorter man into action made heat rise in his chest.

Poe opened the bottle of red wine he brought and filled his glass first. Rude. He shouldn’t be attracted to someone without proper manners. Without a word, he stretched out his palm for Ben’s empty glass. The hand made grabbing motions. Childish. Strike two. Still, the motion reawakened another thought. Remembering a moment of flirting from a month ago, Ben held his eyes as he moved to the sink, rinsing his own glass. He wasn’t a slob; he wasn’t about to make the cheap wine taste any worse by having the hints of a good wine at the bottom.

Their fingers brushed as he handed him the empty glass. It took him back to another touch.

They had been in the copy room, the one they shared with the office downstairs. Ben had been trying to print something but someone else had fucked up the queue and left it without fixing the problem. The entire thing needed to be reset and he was sure he knew how to do it. It was going fine. He didn’t need anyone to come in after fifteen minutes of swearing and restarting the printer several times to put his hand on his back, tell him that he’s _got this_ and then solve the problem in under a minute.

In that dingy room, he had wanted him then. The hand on his back had lingered for a moment that surfaced in his mind whenever he let his guard down. Poe had solved a problem without asking for anything in return. But his cocky grin had kept him from doing anything when they parted, taking the document back to his desk to stare at if for fifteen minutes before he managed to calm down.

Still, he’d invited that mouth and hand to his apartment that night. It was all an identical temptation but a different setting. Now it was personal and he’d taken them there.

“I guess why get drunk with them when you can have all of this fun to yourself? Were you going to read some philosophy later? Listen to some classical music and finish a book of poetry? We work in copywriting, Ben. We read enough for a living.” Poe filled the glass beyond where he wanted it but he didn’t want to argue. He had bought it.

“I read. You just sleep.” Ben took the glass and dared to smirk at him, but only once the wine was in his hand.

“No one has reported me.” Poe looked stunned for a moment before replying with a soft look. His face transformed into a smile that made Ben regret _again_ inviting him over. It was full teeth and joy. It was exactly the type of person he couldn’t have in his life: someone who was always happy; someone who brought him a rush of feelings in an instant. Ben didn’t think he was capable of looking that happy at that point. He wanted to. His parents wanted him to.

He settled for smirking and sipping at his wine. “Not yet.”

He had waited long enough that it made Poe sputter into his wine. “Don’t you dare report me, Solo. I can find some dirt to dig up on you. You can’t be that good at your job. You can be a jerk so maybe they’ll fire you over that.”

Standing with the length of his kitchen table between them, Ben managed a shrug. “I will probably slip up. And that will be your chance.”

“And I will not hold back. I will ruin you. Ruin you so hard.” Poe was grinning again. “So are you going to give me a tour?”

He had to shrug. “Well, you’ve seen the kitchen. And the living room. And I have a guest bedroom and washroom down the hall. And then my bedroom and washroom.”

He wanted to go into details about how he’d had the kitchen renovated last year, softening the colours and adding more light. He wanted to explain how the chest in the corner of the living room was an antique from his grandfather. But he didn’t. He just waved his hand and brushed it off.

“So you live in a hipster loft. Got it.” Poe started wandering towards the couch and Ben sucked in his annoyance and followed after. “I guess it’s not exactly a loft. More like a hipster, open concept, pretentious apartment. I have two roommates and our oven never works and I have to get up at dawn to get the shower in time. And you’ve got all this. No wonder you come in to work all pissed off everyday. You have to leave it.”

Poe had planted himself on the sofa, putting his feet up on his coffee table. Ben exhaled and sat down at the other end. “You could probably find a better place. If you tried.”

Really, why was he judging him? Why did he care how Poe lived? What had bothered him at the end of the thought was that he hadn’t known how his home situation. They’d never really talked before. There had been exchanges that he’d cut short with a glare, telling him to go back to work. There had been sitting next to him at the pub, hearing him ramble about nothing that really mattered.

Poe’s glass was already half empty and Ben took a long drink from his to catch up and kill the thought. “No, I like it. It saves money. I’m helping my dad pay off his mortgage. I help him, live cheap, and I can go out every now and again. I don’t need to try for anything more.”

Ben slowly filed the information away, eyeing how Poe’s face had briefly flicked from joking to a flash of sorrow, before finally settling on delayed resolve. “I’m sorry I didn’t know that.”

Poe’s brown eyes and thick lashes were aimed at him. “No you’re not. I’m not even sure if you really like me or not. You hate everyone at the office and somehow I’m here. Everyone else was texting you. Why just answer me?”

Keeping his emotions hidden was a part of who he was. He wouldn’t call anyone at the office his _friend_ but he’d had some people over a year ago for his birthday. His mother had told him to do it; she even paid for the catering to make him do it. Everyone left happy and drunk and he’d gotten a few bottles of nice wine or whiskey out of the deal. But that was before Poe took over the social life of the office and started the standard Friday afterworks. It hadn’t stopped those people from also texting him that night, asking where he was and why he left. And he had ignored them. Just not him.

And he wasn’t sure how to answer the question. So he just finished his glass, gathering courage.

“I guess I wanted to talk to you,” Ben finally said, looking only at his lack of wine. Turning to Poe, he lifted one eyebrow. “And now we are talking.”

Catching the look, Poe downed the last of his wine and set his glass on the coffee table. He lifted his hand, pointed at their glasses and grinned before he took the few strides it took him to get back to the table. Still, during that time, Ben grabbed coasters for both of their glasses.

“So,” Poe said, invading his space to fill his glass before sitting down beside him, sliding his glass over to that side of the couch, “so what are we going to talk about?”

The warmth of having a shoulder against him reminded Ben of the last time he’d dated. He’d avoided it since his last relationship imploded into pain and hurt, watching her leave with hate in her eyes after two years. This had been her apartment too. Now it was just his.

The awkward ache made him stretch his arm over the back of the sofa. He wanted to move his hand, to brush his shoulder, but his hand stayed in place. “We can talk about how I’m bad at this?”

To his credit, Poe quirked his head. “Bad at what?”

He wanted to wince but instead he took a drink. “You know.”

Sliding closer to him, Poe also sipped at his glass, cradling it his hands. “I know what?”

Their knees were touching. The heat made him grip the back of the sofa harder. “You really are dumb.”

Poe brought his feet up to the sofa, tucking them beneath him as he nudged closer. He was so close now. He could smell the wine but also the soft cinnamon tones of his cologne. Even at the office, even if he slept when he shouldn’t, Poe had him in his hands with everything that was him. “Maybe I’m just fishing for compliments.”

“You’re here. That’s a compliment.” He licked his lips, feeling the warm, brown eyes drilling into him but refusing to react. “And I’m letting you sit close to me. That’s another one.”

Time slowed at Poe sipped at his wine before leaning over to put his glass down. His hand stilled for a moment before slowly moving it to his leg. “And you’re not pulling away now. Is that a third?”

Ben had wanted to flinch. He could stand up and it would all end. He had wanted to drag the moment on longer at the same time. But they were at this point now. Looking down at the hand, and then at the man beside him, Ben managed a happy sigh. “It is. You should take it and not push it.”

Poe’s other hand reached for his glass, taking it and setting it down beside the wine he’d left there earlier. He turned back to him with a smile that was loaded with want, lust, and all of the emotions that had been disguised at work as camaraderie. He’d accepted the touches, seen the looks, but now he had to face them and deal with how to respond to it all where he was the most comfortable.

With careful, daring touches, Poe’s hand crept up his chest. “Is this pushing it?”

His hands were free but still stuck to the edges of his couch. The last time he’d held someone, it had only ended in hating the other person. They were too opposite and clashed over too many things. What was he doing feeling desire for someone who also brought out the worst in him? Someone who made him be social, to talk about nonsense, to let him in. Maybe he hated being taunted. Maybe he hated the way the other man’s pants looked when he strode through the office because it only made it harder to focus on what he had to do.

Within him, he wanted to get him out of the jeans he’d shown up wearing to his apartment that night. But in his present mind, he was still thinking about Monday.

But Poe wasn’t stopping. He could almost count his eyelashes as he loomed closer.

“Hey, Ben, I’d really like to kiss you now. Or have you kiss me.” Poe’s voice dipped and he tilted his head. “And you know, if you don’t, I won’t report you to HR or anything. Everything will be fine on Monday. Maybe it will be better on Monday. I can make you buy me lunch and…”

“Shut up,” Ben said before leaning down to press their lips together, sighing instantly at the contact and how it brought desperate arms around his neck. He groaned and reached out for the slight body beside him, pulling it onto his lap. Only it wasn’t an _it_. It was a living and breathing man who was pushing his tongue into his mouth and greedily running his hands through his hair.

“Fuck, I love your hair.” Poe was settled on his lap, but broke the kiss to gasp. “I had this dream about you and now…shit. We’re almost forty and this is our Friday night. Just us in your apartment.”

“I’m only thirty-two. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He settled his hands onto Poe’s hips and moaned at the sensation of having him shift against him, slowly rolling his hips as he stared down at him. Those lips needed to be kissed again but not now. “Maybe you’re too old.”

It earned him another smile and another rush of warmth to his dick. “Fuck you, I’m only thirty-five. I was being kind there.”

“It would be kind if you gave me my wine.” Ben slipped his hands down from Poe’s hips to his ass, letting his mind wander and how far he could take this. There was always Monday to think about.

Snorting, Poe turned and Ben could feel more of him, all of him, in that instant. It all dropped onto his lap like the wine glass in his hand. He smiled and then lingered in the same situation as Poe retrieved his own glass.

“Are you happy now?” Poe clinked their glasses together before downing what was left in two long clunks. Ben had no choice but to follow the example; he was older, after all.

They both let their glasses fall away and he knew he heard glass breaking but he tried not to care about it. He got a strong and demanding kiss that told him the couch wasn’t good enough. He wanted to talk more. He wanted to have more time to explore who they were. Maybe that could happen after.

He silently wished that it would be a reality as he gripped Poe’s body and stood, taking him with him in his arms. He kept kissing him until the brink of need had been reached.

“You really are this big,” Poe said, breaking the kisses to squirm in his arms. “I can…wherever you want me to go, I can be dragged there. Don’t make me feel…weird right now.”

Ben reacted instantly, but still carefully set him down. It didn’t stop his arms from holding him. “You’re not…small. I’m just…me.”

“Yeah and that me you’re talking about? He’s the guy I’ve been trying to sleep with for the last six months.” Poe’s hands gripped his neck, soft hands making it hard to breathe. He sighed at the warmth. “Ben, I’m losing my mind right now. What do you want?”

He leaned down, teasing that he would kiss him but moved at the last minute to kiss up his jaw instead. He couldn’t leave that unkissed. “I want you. Is that enough?”

“Yeah,” Poe answered, smiling again and raising his thick eyebrows. “Yeah, show me your bedroom.”

He didn’t need the prompt but thrived on it, tugging at him into the next room. In his mind, he thought that Poe never made the bed. When this happened at his place, he’d have to learn. Even with two roommates, he was an adult and needed to…

With the kisses getting more demanding, more certain and heated, he realized that he was planning out something more permanent. Desperately clinging to affection wasn’t attractive. He needed to switch his mind.

Finally, _finally_ , they hit the foot of his bed and he could be on top of him, deepening the kisses while he stroked his face as he pressed him down against the broad mattress. Hearing Poe against him, letting out soft grunts as his hands started being more confident, he was so lost. But he had felt that all from the beginning, from that first meeting. He was real and he was honest. A cocky grin. A shared smile. Affection didn’t mean love but he could give it all to him that night.

Pulling away, he cupped his face. His fingers traced the soft skin and he heard Poe hold back a groan as his hand found its home. Looking into his eyes, Ben didn’t know how the night would end. He just knew that he had the object of his affection on his bed, almost wrapped up in the sheets, and he still needed to figure out what to do.

Maybe talking was good.

“Do you need anything?” He was speaking but at the same time didn’t know where he was, raising his hand to smooth his eyebrow. “Water?”

Poe leaned into the touch, his face softening into a grin. “No water. Just you.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Prove it.”’

That’s when Poe surged up and Ben was lost in him.

-=-

It felt like home to have someone in his arms as he awoke. It was still dark, still silent in the city. The bed had never felt as warm before. The evening had stretched into the night and he never wanted to let it go. The way he felt beneath him could never be replaced by anyone else. Even if it ended in a couple of hours with the sunrise, he’d had a moment to breathe.

Poe mumbled lightly and rolled over, away from him.

Ben followed, pulling him closer and was met with a new groan, this time one of contentment. The difference was small but he could feel it.

If they could make it through Saturday, then Monday would be meaningless.

Feeling light but sleepy lips against his chest, Ben shuddered and willed away the weekend ending entirely.

-=-

There was a bouquet of flowers waiting for him at his desk. He frowned at it, still grimacing at the bad coffee he'd retrieved from the office machine.

There had only been silence on Sunday after spending Saturday together.

The entire day spent not knowing had ramped his anxiety up beyond its usual level.

“Oh, hey, who’s that from?” Poe stopped by to wink, sipping on coffee and looking too awake for it to be 8 a.m. His pastel shirt and tie were the usual too-much colours. But he wanted him to be there and be shining in his eyes. “Maybe you who owe whoever it was a dinner?”

Ben turned, running his fingers along the vase to hide how his hand wanted to shake. “Maybe dinner tonight?”

“Oh yeah? Maybe that place down the street from your apartment? The tapas place? I mean, I don’t know. Whoever sent you those flowers, they might like tapas.” Poe kept licking his lips as he spoke. And it made Ben want to stand up without worry and feel him against him again. He wanted a soft mouth to erase the machine coffee he’d been drinking up until that point. The night together hadn’t vanished.

But he held back. Instead, he just smiled. “Maybe that person, whoever it was, could meet me there at seven tonight?”

“Great. Greatness. I guess you’ll find out then who likes you enough to send you flowers that you’re not allergic to.” Poe’s eyebrows almost met his hairline before he finished speaking.

Left in the between, Ben silently started counting down the hours until seven.


End file.
